


Work Bench

by Ralith



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Mild Gore, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24376783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralith/pseuds/Ralith
Summary: A collection of drabbles featuring a range of characters, but most prominently Ironhide and Ratchet, based on prompts and writing challenges. Tags may be updated as new chapters are posted.
Relationships: Ironhide/Ratchet (Transformers)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	1. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet shouldn't have been on this mission.

“I want it on the record that I didn’t agree to you joining this mission.”

Ratchet looked up from adjusting the release cap on his sawblades. He didn’t like the wobble he felt at its highest setting.

“This may be just a recon mission, but this is the closest we’ve ever been to the Con’s current front line.”

“I’ve seen my share of horrors, Ironhide. Held mangled frames in my arms and been elbow-deep in energon trying to reconstruct chest cavities from the inside out. If you’re about to say I’m not hardened enough to be out here, then you can stow it.”

“Though I would’ve preferred Optimus assign me another soldier, that’s not the point I was trying to make.” Ironhide cast a cautionary glance out at the battle-scarred plains that stretched endlessly from their refuge, scrap churned up from Cybertron’s very surface to form a cave-like hideaway. He moved slowly across the entrance, dipping into shadows to throw off any sniper that may be watching. He came to sit at Ratchet’s side. “We can’t risk losing any more fighters, yes, but we’ve already lost so many medics to Megatron, be they casualties or kidnapped. I don’t want to risk one more.” Ironhide placed a hand on Ratchet’s knee. _I don’t want to lose you._

Ratchet allowed himself this brief moment of intimacy and overlaid Ironhide’s hand with his own. Ironhide turned his palm over and twined their fingers together. Ratchet looked back at the small cadre of warriors, wondering if any had caught the act and were grinning or about to issue a snarky comment, but no one paid them the least attention. Some of the soldiers had fallen asleep or simply stared at the broken metal around them, content to conserve what little energy they had.

“Ironhide, I don’t wish to die, either. I rather relish the idea of growing old,” Ratchet gave a soft laugh. He met Ironhide’s eyes and in them the old soldier saw the same light he had fallen in love with, a hope and fire this war hadn’t quashed. “But if I died protecting someone, be it a young soldier on the other side of the planet, or you beside me, I’ll know that’s one more life that hopefully sees the end of this war.”

Their gazes lingered a while longer, when Ironhide saw the medic’s optic ridge twitch. Ratchet heard it first, his audio sensors tuned to their highest sensitivity. The high-pitched shriek of an incoming missile. Ironhide was shouting to his soldiers then found himself being shoved on the ground, Ratchet’s body covering his. He didn’t register much before the impact, searing heat and pain engulfing him, but he knew at some point Ratchet had grabbed his hand and squeezed. Tight.


	2. Playing Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet had taught Doctor Annabelle Lennox all he can. Ironhide is at their mercy.

Ironhide wasn’t enjoying his new primary physician. He was used to getting poked and prodded by Ratchet, but this new doctor had a penchant for shoving grubby little hands into his optics and -ow! olfactory unit.

“What do you think is wrong with our patient?” Ratchet, taking a step into the role of nurse, asked the attending doctor.

Doctor Annabelle Lennox curled a small fist under her chin and looked over the shape of the Autobot warrior laying on the living room floor. She thought for a minute, and finally exclaimed, “I can’t do anything with this! His skin is too hard.”

“Perhaps this would be easier if our patient were more organic?” Ratchet winked at Ironhide and with a huff, the soldier adjusted his holoavatar to present a more human form. Annabelle jabbed him in the ear with a plastic otoscope and smiled, content with this form.

Annabelle fully cracked open her case of toy medical instruments and set to work. She pinched Ironhide’s arm with forceps and attempted to draw blood from his elbow, hands, and neck. She took his temperature, which according to her readings came in at a healthy 170 degrees. And the young doctor enjoyed playing the drums on his knees with a reflex hammer.

Ratchet sat back on the couch, eagerly handing Annabelle a plastic tool when she asked and positively enjoying the murderous glances Ironhide cast his way. He had taught her well.

“You’re doing an excellent job, doctor!” Praised Ratchet as the young girl sat back from a long-winded session of wrapping Ironhide’s arm in gauze up the shoulder. She wiped her forehead with her arm, feigning exhaustion. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Scalpel!” She called and held out her hand. “We need to take off the arm!”

“The arm?” Ironhide raised his head and looked down at the haphazard wrapping. “But you just finished tying me up!”

“No no, Ironhide. Doctor Lennox is right. Your arm does look bad.” Ratchet fixed the soldier with a shit-eating grin. “Here you go, doctor,” he said, handing Annabelle the fake scalpel.

She began making a sawing motion, pausing for a moment to tell Ironhide he should be crying or screaming in pain, and resumed only when Ironhide’s fake cries were satisfactory.

Ratchet looked over her work when she was done, Ironhide’s arm tucked beneath him and out of view.

“How do you think you did? It looks like a fine job.”

Annabelle gazed up and down Ironhide’s gauze-covered body when suddenly she threw her head back and screamed, “We’re losing him!”, the ferocity of which terrified even Ratchet.

\--

Will didn’t now what he was returning home to. Leaving Annabelle in the bot’s care had never gone wrong, with the exception of a few choice Cybertronian curse words the young child learned from Ironhide. But he certainly didn’t expect to see his living room transformed into an operating room.

The trio were watching cartoons, only Ratchet and Annabelle occupied the couch and Ironhide was lying on the floor, one arm beneath him and his body tied down to a spine board. He now sported an eye patch made from a gauze pad and was covered in bandages.

“Uh, hey guys. ‘Belle, I brought ice cream home for you.”

Annabelle jumped off the couch with an excited giggle and raced for the kitchen. Will couldn’t take his eyes off Ironhide.

“What the hell happened?”

“Annabelle bandaged me, cut off my arm, killed me, and resurrected me with one million CCs of ‘life juice’. She then strapped me to this rig for some Primus-damned reason.”

“It’s so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.”

“The only one getting hurt is going to be you when I get out of this,” Ironhide growled at his mate.

Ratchet grinned. “Doctor Lennox, your patient needs to be sedated!”


	3. Together (Pacific Rim Crossover)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet tries to keep Ironhide in the Drift.
> 
> Mild description of gore. 
> 
> Mentioned MegOp

Ironhide felt every bone in his body rattle and his brain slosh in his skull. Were it not for the body harness, he’d be on the other side of the conn-pod.

_That’s another concussion._

Ratchet stumbled too as the creature outside sharpened its talons on their hull, but he rapidly recovered and righted their jaeger.

“Damn it, Ironhide! Focus!”

The old medic didn’t need to verbalize his frustrations; Ironhide could feel it in the Drift, saw it even. To non-Rangers, it was impossible to describe how he saw emotions, each one possessing their own color. These colors were new, nameless, hues he never could see before melding minds with the former doctor. They were powerful and beautifully intimate.

And right now Ironhide could see Ratchet’s frustrations flooding their bond.

“I know we’re just barely holding our ground, but we’re going to win this.”

“How do you figure that? This is our first Cat 3.”

They stepped in unison to avoid the crushing blow of a barbed tail.

“And there will plenty of Cat 3’s in the future. We’re going to win because we have a city of millions at our back, relying on us. And I want to surpass Optimus and Megatron’s kill count.”

“That’s a hell of a ways to go to beat their numbers.”

“I’m up for the journey. If you’re willing to join me.”

Ratchet turned to him. He smiled through gritted teeth as a wave rocked them. There was a fire in those eyes, maybe even a touch of bloodlust. Ironhide amusedly wondered who he could have possibly picked that up from.

How the hell had they stuck together this long, he mused. Especially since Ratchet was less than enthusiastic about pairing up after their initial neural handshake. _“We might as well work together,”_ he had said. _“Our connection was passable enough.”_

Ironhide grinned and thought back to their first sparring session. Though they shared an unsteady Drift in the beginning, they learned to speak with the blows of their sticks. Those were their first real conversations. Things only deepened from there.

“We do this together.”

They activated their plasma cutters before the kaiju fully breached the water’s surface for another round. Blood rained down as it moved to bite their arm, reacting too late and losing its jaw. It tried to recoil, but Ratchet was faster, grabbing the monster by a horn and holding on for dear life as it thrashed.

The two Rangers jammed their right arm cannon into the bloody maw.

“Ironhide, I’ll let you do the honors.”


	4. Dim the Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ironhide is a bit of a romantic, but Ratchet is out of his element.

“I know you don’t want to be here.”

The main hangar was alive with jostling bodies and music that rattled the catwalks above. Everyone was moving to the beat, trying to impress their partners, or doing their best drunken renditions of classic hits.

But Ratchet stood in the corner, fiddling with a piece of armor or becoming engrossed in the examination of a seam.

“Don’t let me stop you, Ironhide. You were pretty excited about this event.”

“Yes, but…there’s only one bot I wanted to spend tonight with.” Ratchet stiffened when Ironhide’s hand came to rest on his lower back. The soldier rubbed soothing little circles into the plating with his thumb. “I don’t want to see you miserable. I clearly forced you out of your element. I’m sorry.”

“It’s been so long since we spent any real time together. But all of this…” Ratchet looked out at the crowd. Too many bodies, too many eyes.

“Then how about we go back to our room. Put on some slow music, dim the lights, maybe light some candles, and I hold you in my arms all night?”

A playful little smile appeared on Ratchet’s lips, some of the nervous tension in his face melting away.

“Candles? That sounds overly romantic, even for a softie like you.”

“What? I saw it in a movie once.”

Ratchet chuckled. He let Ironhide lead him away to their quarters.

“Did that movie give you any more ideas on how to seduce a bot?”


End file.
